Bleached
by Bjorn
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo received more than a sword when he learned the name of his zanpakuto. Namely, a flood of disjointed memories, all centered around one name: Shiba Kaien. A story of reincarnation, and its repercussions.
1. Nejibana

Disclaimer: Bleach and everything in it is the property of Kubo Tite.

Bleached

Chapter 1

**Nejibana**

* * *

The goddamn bastard was enjoying himself.

It wasn't a feeling. It wasn't a vague hunch. It was an honest-to-god concrete fact, as plain as blue sky and green grass: Urahara Kisuke was enjoying himself.

Even though his back was turned as he ran full throttle, Ichigo could almost see the sadistic grin on the older man's face as he cheerfully proceeded to slice Ichigo's immediate surroundings into itty bitty pieces. He threw himself to the side as Urahara's zanpakutou nearly skewered him, and watched with a sick sense of fascination as the blade sunk nearly a foot into the boulder that he'd been in front of. His mind helpfully supplied graphic images of his body in place of the stone and he paled, his eyes widening.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this!_ he thought frantically, scrabbling towards the nearest rock formation - not that it would help much, seeing as how the bastard's sword could slice through it like butter. He was supposed to kick ass and take names, not be killed by a lunatic wearing a stupid hat! The absence of his own zanpakutou felt nearly tangible... his hands clenched and unclenched spasmodically as if they needed something - anything - to grasp.

Ichigo was dimly aware of Urahara's employees watching him, chatting idly to themselves as if they were watching an interesting movie. A sudden wave of panic sunk its tendrils into his heart and he had to suppress the urge to laugh wildly. He was going to _die_ and these people thought it was a fun _show_? He was just about to shout at them when a line of searing pain across his chest alerted him to the fact that Urahara - and his sword - had gotten tired of waiting for him to come out.

He ducked under a backhanded slash that could have easily decapitated him and slipped past Urahara, running for all he was worth. At least Urahara was slower than he was - something for which he thanked any passing gods that might be listening. He did his best to ignore the thin whispering sound of sharpened metal cutting the air just inches behind him, and tried desperately to think of a way to get himself out of his predicament.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice asked from beside him.

"Gah!" Ichigo responded intelligently, tripping over his own feet and sprawling inelegantly in the dirt. "Who-" His eyes focused on the voice's owner and he blinked. "What're _you_ doing here?"

The woman standing in front of Ichigo sighed and massaged her temples, as if trying to stave off a headache. She looked much the same as she had a few hours ago, when she'd helped Ichigo find the key to his powers. She was tall - nearly as tall as he was - with sea-blue hair that fell to her shoulders, dressed in a loose black blouse and matching pants. "I'm here," she said, "to keep you from getting us killed." She crossed her arms under her breasts and shot him a glare, somehow managing to convey an air of both frustrated exasperation and eager anticipation.

The mention of death made Ichigo look frantically over his shoulder, expecting to feel Urahara's sword piercing between his shoulder blades at any moment. He was pleasantly surprised to see that the hat-wearing maniac was still a fair distance away... and wasn't moving at all.

"Huh?"

"This place isn't really the training ground beneath the Urahara Shop," the woman explained, noticing Ichigo's confusion. "It's the inside of your mind, Ichigo. And if you don't get over your fear of death soon, this place will cease to exist. As will you."

Ichigo's frustration came to a head and he yelled, "Well then _help me_ already instead of standing there trying to look cool, damn it!"

"I can't help you if you're too stupid to help yourself!" the woman yelled back, balling her hands into fists. "Get rid of your fear. It doesn't suit you, anyway, and it's the only thing keeping us apart.

Ichigo snorted derisively. "Easier said than done, you psychotic tomboy."

The woman's anger seemed to ebb and she smirked, amusement dancing in her blue eyes. "You haven't changed at all. Still an idiot," she said, raising a hand and running it through her hair.

"Try."

Ichigo blinked and did, ignoring for the moment the fact that the tall woman standing beside him spoke as if she'd known him before. He concentrated, willing his fear of death - of everything - to disappear.

Surprisingly enough, it did. A sense of confidence flooded him, washing away all of his doubts. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, feeling as though he'd just found a part of himself he hadn't realized he was missing. Opening his eyes, the breath caught in his throat as something materialized in front of him. It hung in the air as if supported by invisible wires, turning slowly.

It was a sword.

_His_ sword.

The words came automatically, even as he reached out for it. The moment he touched it, he grinned; he felt suddenly _whole_. "_Suiten sakamake_!" he cried, grasping the hilt firmly with both hands. Power seemed to rise in him like a heady tide, filling him with so much energy he thought he'd burst as he spun the blade in a circle. The woman standing beside him smiled briefly before vanishing.

"_Nejibana!_"

Then the world exploded.

He shook his instructor's hand and received his formal shihakusho, reveling in the crisp feel of the cloth. Finally, he was a full-fledged shinigami! He spotted his little sister in the crowd and waved to her. She waved back, smiling fiercely, pride shining in her eyes. He felt like he was walking on the clouds; he'd never stop grinning because

the sword wasn't _really_ a sword, per se. His instructors at the academy had told him that zanpakutou only rarely resembled actual katana in their released forms, but he'd been hoping to be one of the few exceptions. After all, what use would his training in kenjutsu be now? The blade in front of him looked like

the captain wasn't showing up, and if he didn't come soon he'd go mad. For what seemed like the fiftieth time he found himself resisting the urge to release Nejibana and beat Sentarou and Kiyone with it until they shut up. He had no idea how Captain Ukitake could put up with their bickering when

Miyako was dead. The words took his breath away, leaving him gasping as though he'd been punched hard in the gut. He found himself shaking his head in denial, felt

Rukia, already unbalanced from shock, tripping as he pulled her, plunging her zanpakutou straight through

my heart

* * *

Urahara peered cautiously through the sudden dust cloud that had been kicked up, obscuring Ichigo from view. A part of him noted that Tessai had joined him, most probably after shooing Jinta and Ururu off. The large man smoothly drew what looked like a simple kitchen knife from within his apron, but Urahara knew better; Tessai's released zanpakutou was easily as long as he was tall. Wordlessly Tessai moved forward, taking his place slightly to Urahara's left where he could cover his former captain without impeding Benihime's striking arc.

There was a short, tense silence as the dust settled down and Ichigo was revealed, face down and apparently unconscious. Urahara started to breath a sigh of relief, then stopped, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the blade held firmly in the teenager's hands. Beside him, he could hear Tessai gasp.

A Shinigami's zanpakutou was as unique as their fingerprint or DNA; never in recorded history had there ever been two identical zanpakutou wielded by two different shinigami. In a way it was to be expected, seeing as how the swords were reflections of the soul.

_The question is... if that's true, then who __**is**__ Kurosaki Ichigo?_ Urahara thought, looking down at the sword - if it could be called a sword - that Ichigo was holding. The haft was far too long to be that of a katana, looking more like that of a spear. A light blue tassel hung from the head, which was tipped by an intricate, triple-pronged crystal blade.

"Is it..." Tessai started to say, then trailed off. It had been over a century since he or the man standing beside him had worn a shihakusho, but both of them still remembered the owner of the crystal trident.

Shiba Kaien had been a prodigy beyond words, graduating from a six-year course academy course in a third of the norm and racing through the ranks like lightning. Just five years later, he'd risen to the coveted rank of Vice Captain, setting a record that had never been broken since. Though he had no way of knowing for sure since his exile from Soul Society, Urahara thought it likely that Kaien had become a captain in the century he'd been absent - Ukitake Juushirou had certainly been grooming him for the job.

Of course, none of that answered the question of just what Ichigo was doing with his zanpakutou.

Urahara simply nodded, answering his friend's unfinished question.

"Nejibana."

* * *

His return to consciousness was slow, disorienting, and painful as hell. It felt like he'd been beaten judiciously with something both large and blunt. He started to open his eyes, hissed in pain as the light stabbed them like daggers, and decided that it was perhaps better to keep them closed for the time being. Slowly, he took stock of his surroundings as best as he could without his eyesight. Nejibana's familiar weight in his right hand made him smile despite himself.

He was lying on a hard surface, probably stone from the feel of it. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing. At length, he sat up, using Nejibana to support himself and doing his utmost best to ignore the horrible sense of weightless vertigo that promptly grabbed hold of him. He hadn't felt so sick since the idiots from the 11th Division had borrowed a pub for an entire week and convinced him to join them.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes, noting with relief that this time, at least, the light didn't seem like it was going to burn his eyes out. He took a look around, careful to keep from moving his head too much; it felt like someone had taken out his brain, liberally studded it in shattered glass and then carelessly replaced it, making him wince whenever he-

There were two people watching him.

Instinct played more part in his actions than thought as he sprang to his feet, bringing Nejibana to bear in front of him. He immediately regretted it as the sudden movement drove a spike of white-hot pain through his head, nearly sending him to his knees again. There was a soft _thunk_ as he stuck Nejibana into the dirt, using the trident as a support. From what he could tell, the two people watching him hadn't moved, so he took his time gathering his wits and then looked up.

A wave of relief washed over him as he recognized the two men standing in front of him, though they weren't in uniform. "Captain Urahara? Vice Captain Tsukabishi?"

He frowned as both men flinched, shock plainly visible on their faces. Urahara took a cautious step forward.

"Who... _are_ you?" the man asked slowly, peering at him from under his hat.

He blinked, confused. What kind of question was that? "I'm-"

_Kurosaki Ichigo_

He stopped, his eyes losing focus. "I'm..."

_Shiba Kaien_

He abruptly fell to his hands and knees, his dizziness suddenly making itself known again. He felt the urge to throw up and made no effort to resist, the stench of his own bile making him feel even worse than before. Panting heavily, he leaned back and had just started to get his wildly fluctuating reiatsu under control when what felt like a superheated nail was launched straight through his brain.

The scream tore unbidden from his throat as memories, thoughts and feelings raged through his head like a fierce tide. His wide eyes saw nothing as he felt himself teetering on the brink of utter madness, his mind struggling to cope with the sudden deluge of utterly foreign information. He was sixteen and centuries old, a high school student and a shinigami vice captain. He was married. He wasn't. He was dead. Alive. He wasn't sure anymore. Of anything.

He felt like he was hanging desperately from a cliff, hanging over a pit that had no bottom. Slowly but surely, he felt his grip on his sanity start to slip. He was vaguely aware of Urahara kneeling beside him, yelling urgently, but he couldn't bring himself to concentrate on the words. He was busy going mad, after all.

Then a cool wave seemed to wash over him, lifting him up and away from the insanity that had seemed so close moments before. The thoughts, the memories, were still there, but now they seemed so much more bearable. He could remember his name. Names. He shook his head hard, noting absently that his headache had disappeared. _Name._

"You need more time to adjust," a feminine voice - one that certainly did _not_ belong to Urahara Kisuke - said from beside Ichigo. "Sleep."

He turned to look at the owner of that voice, but instead found himself staring into Urahara's face. Ichigo mentally shrugged. It wasn't important.

"Who am I, sandal-hat?" Ichigo said faintly, feeling his eyes droop. "That's obvious. I'm Kurosaki Ichigo." The ground suddenly seemed so soft and inviting, more like a feather mattress than hard, packed earth. He blinked as something registered to his fatigued senses.

"Heh. You kept that hat Lady Shihouin gave you," he managed to say, before sleep claimed him and he sank blissfully into darkness.

* * *

"What is it?" the cat asked, giving a huge yawn. She'd been in the middle of a glorious nap when awareness had been rudely imposed on her by means of a rough shake. Her dreams of milk and tuna had died a quiet and abrupt death as she bolted to her feet with a yowl.

_Nobody_ shook her and lived to tell about it.

"It's about Ichigo," Urahara said. The heavy look on his face made the deep claw marks scoring his left hand look all the more ridiculous. "Follow me." Without waiting for her reply, he turned and opened the trap door that led to the 'basement'. Cocking her head to one side at his unnaturally serious manner, Yoruichi padded along after him.

"Isshin's boy?" she asked, leaping down in lieu of using the steps. At the bottom, Tessai gave her a quick bow before ascending the ladder upwards. "What happened? He didn't pass the test?" She frowned - as much as it was possible for a cat to frown - as Urahara made no reply. His... _unique_ methods were far riskier than the normal, commonly accepted ways of training, but they should have been well within the bounds of possibility for someone with the Kurosaki boy's reiryoku.

At length Urahara chuckled, a little of his normal personality showing. "Failed? No, far from it. He passed with flying colors." He stopped in front of Ichigo, who was snoring loudly. In his right hand was a simple katana, held in a death grip.

"So?"

"So," Urahara said, squatting beside Ichigo, "he found out the name of his sword."

"And?"

"His sword is named Nejibana."

"Twisted Flower?" Yoruichi blinked, her tail lashing from side to side. "It sounds familiar, but I don't see why that would warrant waking me up in the middle of a nap."

"He also achieved shikai," Urahara commented, looking down at the sleeping youth. "It resembles a long trident with a crystal blade."

Yoruichi found herself resisting the urge to claw the man's eyes out. "That doesn't answer my question, Kisuke. So he released his sword. Good for him. Let me in on the earth-shattering revelation before I do something painful."

"You don't recognize the name? I thought you were friendly with the Shiba clan," Urahara said, turning to look at her. "The name and look of Ichigo's zanpakutou completely match that of Shiba Kaien's."

Yoruichi blinked again, her voice conveying confusion where her expression couldn't. "But that's impossible."

"Of course it is." Urahara stood up, careful not to kick dust onto Ichigo. "No two zanpakutou can be completely alike-"

"That's not what I meant," Yoruichi said sharply. She reverted to her human form, unmindful of her nudity - there was nothing that Urahara hadn't seen countless times already.

"It's impossible because Shiba Kaien is dead."

Shock showed plainly on Urahara's face for the first time. "What?"

"I said, Shiba Kaien is dead," Yoruichi said. "He was killed by a Hollow roughly forty years ago."

"How do you know that?" Urahara asked, quickly getting over his surprise.

Yoruichi smirked at him and said, "Unlike you, I kept in touch with several sources. From what I've heard, the 13th Division still doesn't have a vice captain. But anyway." She walked over and stared down at Ichigo, taking in his appearance. She noted that, besides the length and color of his hair, the boy _did_ bear a striking resemblance to Shiba Kaien - at least, to the faint memories she had of meeting the man at a meeting of the noble clans. "So he has Kaien's sword. Say for a moment we ignore the way that fucks with over two thousand years of research on zanpakutou. What else?"

"He called Tessai and I vice captain and captain," Urahara said, shaking his head. "And he knew you."

"He _what_?"

"He knew you," he said, taking off his hat and holding it up. "He saw this and said, 'You kept that hat Lady Shihouin got for you.'"

It was Yoruichi's turn to be shocked. "I bought that stupid hat over three centuries ago! There's no way he could know that-" She was interrupted as Ichigo began to stir, notifying the world of his return to consciousness by way of a low groan.

"I have my theories," Urahara said, backing away from Ichigo and motioning for her to do the same. "We'll discuss this in more detail later." He paused, tapping his cane against one leg. "And do please take your cat form, Yoruichi-san. It simply wouldn't do for Kurosaki-san to pass out again."

She stuck her tongue out at him but complied. "You're no fun."

* * *

"Ah, you're awake!"

Ichigo woke to the abnormally happy voice of Urahara Kisuke, sitting up and putting a hand to his forehead. His mind still felt like someone had taken his head and shaken it hard, knocking loose all manner of old memories. _Old_ memories. He couldn't remember anything after he'd found Nejibana and released it.

"Sandal-hat," he said, getting to his feet. "Your idea of training sucks."

"I must admit you exhibited a most peculiar reaction to it," Urahara said carefully, looking at Ichigo to gauge his reaction. No Captain Urahara this time, at least.

"What he doesn't want to admit is that he had no idea what happened," a voice said from beneath Ichigo. He looked down to see... a cat. He stared at the cat. The cat stared back.

"The cat spoke," Ichigo said blankly.

"No, really? I never would have guessed," the cat retorted, glaring at him. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

Ichigo blinked. "Should I?"

Yoruichi realized that even Shiba Kaien had never seen her transform. "Never mind. What's the name of your sword?"

Confused at the sudden change of subject, Ichigo looked down at his zanpakutou and grinned. "Its name is Nejibana," he said, then frowned as something seemed to flutter slightly inside his mind, a memory that hung tantalizingly out of reach. He was sure that if he just concentrated a bit more, pushed just a little further, then he might reach it-

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as what felt like a set of pins pricked his right foot.

"As I was saying." Yoruichi retracted her claws, ignoring the heated glare Ichigo sent at her. "Can you tell me your name, kid?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Ichigo replied, glancing over at Urahara. "He didn't tell you?"

As a matter of fact, he _had_ told her, but instead of explaining himself Urahara smiled brightly and made an exaggerated show of checking a nonexistent watch. "My! Look at the time. Your training is over for the time being, Kurosaki-san. Now be a good boy and wait at home until I call for you."

Ignoring Ichigo's loud protests, Urahara unceremoniously shooed the teenager back into his body and then out the door, bidding him farewell with a smile that was far too cheerful to be anything but fake.

* * *

It was dark by the time Ichigo got home. He let himself in, slipped off his shoes, and was promptly greeted by a flying dropkick to his midsection. He rolled easily with the impact; one got to expect that kind of thing after the fiftieth time.

"Ichigo!" Isshin cried, completely ignoring the fact that it was well past ten at night and he stood a good chance of waking the neighbors. "You nearly worried your poor father to death. At least call home the next time you decide to run away!"

"I didn't run away, old man," Ichigo replied. He was far too tired and confused to get into a shouting match with his father. "And stop shouting, you'll wake up Karin and Yuzu. Just go back to sleep." His father's eyes widened in alarm and he held up both hands as a sign of surrender. Yuzu had a way of getting extremely cranky if her sleep was interrupted.

Ichigo watched his father move silently up the stairs to his room and blinked as another memory arose in his mind and then disappeared like smoke. The way the older man moved seemed familiar, almost as if he'd seen it before...

_Of course you've seen him before,_ he thought, snorting. _He's your dad._ He mounted the stairs himself, unable to shake the feeling that the most obvious answer wasn't the correct one but unwilling to concentrate. His eyelids felt like they were made of solid steel, and his body felt like it weighed a ton.

Ichigo was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Though he wouldn't remember it in the morning, his sleep was troubled and uneasy. His mind gave names to the people who flitted through his dreams, though part of him had never seen most of them before. Yamamoto-Genryuusai Shigekuni. Ukitake Juushirou. Kotetsu Kiyone. Kotsubaki Sentarou.

Kuchiki Rukia.

Shiba Miyako.


	2. Dreaming

Disclaimer: Bleach and everything in it is the property of Kubo Tite.

Notes: After a bit of thought, I've decided to keep the Japanese phrases for zanpakutou release. While some still sound decent translated (Ukitake's, for instance) some don't. Plus there's the dispute of how exactly they should be translated, which is something I could argue about for hours.

Bleached

Chapter 2

**Dreaming**

* * *

"Honestly," she said as she helped him clean up, her lips quirking upwards in a small smile. Ichigo loved that smile, loved the way the light danced in her eyes as she looked at him. "I thought that a scion of the noble house of Shiba would at least have enough sense not to burn a fish or two." She wiped the grate clean with a rag, giving him a mock glare as she did so.

He drew himself up, doing his best impression of Kuchiki Byakuya. "It is not a woman's place to reprimand her husband for his utter and complete lack of cooking skills," he said icily, trying to pull off the condescending stare that the Kuchiki heir did so well. "She should instead smile gently, wordlessly clean up after him, and then later be rewarded for her competence with a session of mind-blowing lovemaking." He grinned as his words had the desired effect and Miyako dissolved into helpless giggles. Moving forward, he deftly took the now-clean grill from her hands and set it on the tabletop. She let out a half-indignant squeal as he scooped her up into his arms and started carrying her upstairs.

Ichigo frowned as a hell butterfly fluttered up to him, its onyx wings coming to a stop as it alighted on his nose. In his arms, Miyako laughed as he crossed his eyes to stare at it, then took pity on him and removed one of her hands from around his neck to provide the butterfly with a perch.

A voice started to come from the insect, its words hanging in the air long after the sound should have faded. "Vice Captain Shiba Kaien," it said, "your aid is requested in the purification of three Adjuchas-class Menos. Captain Ukitake Juushirou, Captain Aizen Sousuke and Vice Captain Ichimaru Gin will accompany you."

Miyako snarled like an angry tiger, removing herself from her seat in Ichigo's arms and glaring at the butterfly. "What about me?"

"Negative," the butterfly replied, its voice modulated and emotionless. "Captain Aizen Sousuke has deemed the presence of third seat or lower shinigami a liability in this mission. Vice Captain Shiba Kaien, you are to report to the 5th Division barracks within thirty minutes." Its message relayed, it took off and flew out through the open window.

Ichigo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Damn it," he said, reaching for Nejibana. "Why me, of all people?" He gave Miyako a helpless shrug, noting with no little dismay that she was pointedly refusing to meet his gaze. Apparently she'd decided that the old painting of the Senzaikyu was more interesting.

"Come on, Miyako," he started, aware that there was a pleading quality to his voice and doing nothing to hide it. His wife was forgiving and gentle to a fault... most of the time. She turned into a vengeful hellion when anything interrupted what she saw as "together" time with her husband, no matter what the reason. Inwardly, Ichigo blanched as the mental image of an angry Miyako yelling down General Yamamoto flashed through his head. The scary part was that it was liable to actually happen.

He walked up and enveloped her in a rough hug, unmindful of her stiff posture. "You know I don't like this any more than you do," he said, burying his face in her hair. "It's just three Adjuchas. You know our captain will probably take care of them before I can even release Nejibana."

"It's not natural," Miyako replied angrily, refusing to acknowledge his arms around her. "You know that Adjuchas don't form packs like that."

"What I know is that Captain Aizen and Captain Ukitake could probably take on fifty Adjuchas between them and you don't have to worry in the least," Ichigo said mildly, silently willing his wife to forgive him. "I'm sorry, Miyako. I'll be back before you know it, I promise."

He held his breath for a moment, then let it out in an inaudible sigh of relief as his wife melted into his arms, letting the stress drain from her body.

"I just don't want you to leave," she admitted, turning to face him. Ichigo's breath caught in his throat and he felt his blood turn to ice.

"I don't want you to leave," the hollow wearing Miyako's body repeated, its grin stretching her lips unnaturally wide, her skin taking on the color and texture of old, dry paper. He felt her arms - no, tentacles - spear into his back, binding him in place. Its taint started to spread over his soul like oil over water, staining it irreversibly. It spoke in a dead voice, empty of any emotion save a raw malice and sheer hunger that he couldn't even begin to fathom.

"I want us to be together forever."

* * *

Ichigo was woken up by the abrupt application of blunt physical trauma to his abdominal region.

In other words, his dad kicked him in the gut.

Both his memory of his dream and his breath left him in a soft _whoosh_ of roughly expelled air, his eyes widening at the impact. His stomach angrily informed him that it was in pain, dammit, and it was all his fault. Asleep, he'd had no way of softening or lessening the blow that had jerked him awake.

Apparently none too concerned about his son's agonized writhing, Kurosaki Isshin grabbed hold of Ichigo's head in both hands.

"Ichigo!" he shouted, his voice nearly loud enough to rattle Ichigo's teeth. A part of him dimly noted that it was already near noon outside, and Karin and Yuzu - and the neighbors - would probably have left, leaving his father free to unleash the full power of his admittedly impressive voice. "Wake up! You were having a nightmare!"

Ichigo shook his head, releasing himself from the other man's grip and getting his breathing under control. "I was?" For the moment, his urge to kick his father's ass was quelled by his curiosity.

"You were," Isshin confirmed, his manic smile disappearing for once. "You were screaming for at least a minute straight until I woke you up. I think you were saying something, but I couldn't make out any words."

"I..." Ichigo trailed off, the dream already fading from his mind. Irritation rose in him as he glared at the elder Kurosaki. "I might have remembered if it hadn't been for you kicking me like that."

Completely bereft of anything even remotely resembling remorse, Isshin glared right back. His serious expression vanished like smoke in the wind and he leapt forward, rearing his fist back. "How dare you talk back to me like that. Respect your elders, Ichigo!"

Ichigo dodged easily and slipped behind the other man, planting a kick squarely in the small of his father's back. "Why don't you do something to earn that respect, old man? Don't you have a clinic to run?"

"Nearly murdered by my own ignorant son," Isshin cried, one hand clutching the small of his back. "You wound your poor old dad with your cruel words and crueler feet!"

Ichigo snorted derisively, standing in front of his mirror. "Ham it up some more, will you? Somebody might actually think you were being serious." Ichigo checked briefly to make sure his hair wasn't a complete mess, then opened the door to leave. He stopped before exiting and looked back, grudging gratitude in his voice. "And thanks for waking me up. I needed it." He stepped through and closed the door behind him before Isshin could reply, the sound of his footsteps fading rapidly.

Isshin stayed where he was, the silly expression on his face bleeding away like a mirage. He continued staring at the door long after Ichigo had left, rubbing his stubble thoughtfully. Though Ichigo himself hadn't quite noticed what he'd done - moving unconsciously and fluidly with an experience that belied his years - his father certainly had. He'd known about his son's shinigami activities for quite some time, but he hadn't known that Ichigo had any more than a rudimentary knowledge of the four forms of shinigami combat.

"That was shunpo," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. Ichigo had literally flickered moments before Isshin's fist hit home, leaving an afterimage that registered to Isshin's surprised eyes _after_ he felt Ichigo's heel impact his back. While it was possible for humans to survive the sheer speed of shunpo - the Quincy had proved that decades ago with their _hirenkyaku_ - Isshin had no idea where his son could have received that kind of training.

Well, actually, that wasn't quite true. He _did_ have a good idea.

He left after a moment, walking to the telephone and picking it up. He knew the number by heart, of course, and it wasn't long before his old friend's voice answered on the other side. It was promptly silenced as Isshin roared loudly into the receiver, doing his best impression of a lion. The other man's fake pleasantries had always made his head hurt, after all. Shouting at him had worked for centuries, and there was no reason it wouldn't do so now.

"Now that you've kindly shut the fuck up, Kisuke," Isshin said cheerfully, feeling considerably better, "I'd like to ask you a few questions about just what you've been teaching my son..."

* * *

Ichigo walked into the park, a prominent scowl creasing his face. He'd left home with only the vague idea of getting some time alone in his head, but once he achieved that goal he found that he had no idea what to do. Sitting down on a nearby bench, he let himself lean back against it until the cloudless blue sky filled his vision. The shinigami thing wasn't turning out to be what he'd expected. Not in the least.

_Hello, I'm Kurosaki Ichigo. I'm sixteen years old. I like chocolate and spicy cooking. I think I might be going crazy because just a few days ago I started remembering things that never happened to me, names of people I've never met before, and places I'm fairly sure don't exist. Know what the good part is? When I try and concentrate, try to actually remember on purpose... nothing happens!_

He took a deep breath and let the mild warmth of the sun soothe him, taking away his doubts. _One step at a time_, he reminded himself. _First, where do I go now?_

Mentally, he started to tick off his options.

Going back home was a definite no. He had no desire to get into an hour-long brawl with his father for his perceived lack of filial devotion. Mizuiro was still off vacationing wherever it was he'd went - Guam? Taiwan? - and Keigo was probably working at his summer part-time job. Crashing at Tatsuki or Inoue's was out of the question. He didn't even _know_ where Uryuu lived.

He blinked as a low-flying airplane passed by, the sound of its engines breaking him out of his daze. He'd been missing the most obvious choice.

Chad, after all, was always willing to listen and offer sound, if simple advice. He smiled as he pushed himself off the bench, standing straight and stretching for a moment. He was just about to take a step when something flashed past his ear with a whistle that reminded him of the way bullets sounded in movies. The thing - whatever it was - impacted the ground at his feet with a solid _squelch_, nearly spraying its contents all over him.

Ichigo yelped and jumped back, nearly tripping over the bench and attracting interested stares from passing pedestrians. He didn't notice, the message written on the ground having captured his attention.

It was written in neat white characters, looking as if they'd been painted there with a calligraphy brush. Judging from the way people were walking over the words without a second glance, they couldn't see them at all. Then he read them and groaned.

_Kurosaki-san_, the message said, and Ichigo could almost see the wide grin on Urahara's face. _I'm sure you're very busy, but if you could spare just a little time to drop by my store, I'd be most obliged._ In other words, come now or die. Ichigo sighed and slapped his face with the palm of his hand.

"Well," he muttered to himself, "it's not like I was doing anything _important_..."

He'd been dreading his eventual return to Urahara's shop, although if asked he wouldn't have been able to answer exactly why. He couldn't remember what had happened there, after he'd discovered Nejibana's name. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall what had come to pass, silently willing the memories to return. A moment later he staggered, his eyes widening as the world suddenly turned upside down, enveloping him in a sea of nausea.

_Okay,_ he thought unsteadily, putting out a hand to the wall and leaning against it. _Maybe that wasn't such a good idea._

* * *

He made his way to Urahara's shop and knocked, listening to the sound of approaching footsteps on the other side. To his surprise, Urahara, not Tessai or one of the two kids, greeted him.

"Ah, Kurosaki-san!" the man said, greeting him with a boisterous cheer that was obviously fake. Urahara stepped aside, letting him in. "So nice of you to come. Follow me, please."

Ichigo looked around as he walked through the shop, noting with a small amount of surprise that nobody was to be seen. Tessai, at least, had always been there. "Oi, sandal-hat," he said, grunting a little as he descended the ladder to Urahara's basement. "Now that I'm here, mind telling me why you called me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Urahara replied, turning around with surprising speed and striking Ichigo on the forehead with the butt of his cane. "You're here to complete your training, as it were."

Ichigo blinked, looking back at his comatose body. Nejibana was a comforting weight at his side, almost seeming to welcome him. He paid it little heed for the moment. "I thought you said I'd finished my training."

"Oh, certainly not." Urahara looked vaguely horrified at the prospect. "Surely you can't expect to storm Soul Society with no combat training at all." He looked at Ichigo from under his hat, suddenly serious. "You remember Kuchiki Byakuya, don't you?"

Ichigo nodded slowly, even as the name triggered more loose memories that danced frustratingly just outside the scope of his consciousness. "Yeah, he was the captain who took Rukia away." He frowned as he thought about it again. "Wait... _Kuchiki_ Byakuya? Isn't that Rukia's last name, too?"

"It is," Urahara acknowledged quietly. "He is, after all, her older brother."

"_What?_" Ichigo gaped at the other man, utterly surprised. "But he said they were going to _execute_ her-"

"Of course," Urahara said with a slight nod, the corners of his lips twitching upwards in a humorless smile. "The Kuchiki are one of Soul Society's greatest noble houses, after all. Appearances must be kept. It wouldn't do to have a known convict live. What would the other houses say?"

Ichigo was stunned. "But... but..." he stuttered, trying and failing to find the words. Anger and disbelief warred for dominance on his features. "He's her _brother_! That's not right!" he shouted at length, frustration clear in his voice.

Urahara's smile faded, his face twisting into a vague expression of distaste. "It has been many, many centuries since the nobles of Soul Society ever concerned themselves with what was _right_, Kurosaki-san.

"But I didn't call you to talk about times gone by," he said smoothly, drawing a sword from within his cane. "The fact remains that if you attempt to storm Soul Society as you are now, the odds are very good that the first officer you meet will have you dead before you can blink."

Ichigo frowned. "You're kidding. That red-headed guy said he was a vice captain, and I could've beaten him."

"That vice captain was under a limiter," Urahara replied, shaking his head. "Restricting the limits of his power by at least five-fold. That's ignoring captain-level shinigami such as Kuchiki Byakuya, who nearly killed you even when using just a fifth of his true power. Face reality, Kurosaki-san."

Before Ichigo could say anything in reply, he felt the air in front of him _hum_ and found himself looking at the point of Urahara's sword, barely an inch in front of his eyes. Ichigo shivered suddenly; where was the abnormally cheerful man who'd been standing before him just minutes ago? This Urahara Kisuke was like a naked blade, his eyes cold and sharp and deadly.

"_Okiro,_ Benihime," Urahara said quietly, and Ichigo barely had time to draw his sword in a cross-guard position before the sharp sound of metal against metal rang in his ears. Instinctively he launched himself backwards, noting with some relief that Urahara hadn't followed up on his inital strike.

"You haven't released your zanpakutou," the older man said, his tone carrying disapproval. For his part, Ichigo was frantically trying to wrap his brain around the fact that Urahara Kisuke was trying to kill him _again_. "You underestimate me, Kurosaki-san. If I had been one of Soul Society's shinigami, you'd already be dead."

"_Suiten sakamake_," Ichigo cried in lieu of a reply, spinning Nejibana in a circle with his right hand. "Nejibana!" The sword seemed to sing to him before smoothly lengthening, rippling like water and coalescing into a crystal-pronged trident. Ichigo brought it to bear on his right side, gripping the haft with both hands.

If he'd been in any condition to notice, he would have seen a look of disappointment flicker in Urahara's eyes before the man wordlessly burst forward, his blade held high for an overhead strike. Even as Ichigo lifted Nejibana to block it, he abruptly came to an extremely disconcerting conclusion : he had absolutely no idea how to use a trident.

Nejibana _felt_ right in his hands, but fighting with it was another matter entirely. With his previous sword he'd just swung it based on the samurai movies he'd watched. It'd seemed simple enough: keep the sword between you and whatever was threatening to kill you, and use the sharp bits on anything other than yourself.

The released form of Nejibana was an entirely different beast. Holding it at his side like a traditional Japanese spear felt awkward, but he couldn't figure out a way to really wield it, clumsily using the haft to block Urahara's attacks. A half-hearted stab was neatly sidestepped, and he'd almost lost an arm as he overextended and Benihime left an agonizing line of heat along his shoulder.

Urahara was steadily becoming more and more disappointed. Ichigo was showing no hints of Shiba Kaien's unique fighting style, and certainly no knowledge of shunpo. The same went for the other aspects of hohou, as well as hakuda, zanjutsu or kidou. He wielded Nejibana clumsily, as if it were a simple spear.

Thin cuts slowly started to appear on Ichigo's body, leaking blood and stinging fiercely. He felt incredibly slow, the trident huge and unwieldy compared to Urahara's nimble blade.

He thought somebody was whispering to him, but he couldn't hear it properly.

Desperate, he brought Nejibana up to guard, then spun it in a circle around himself, using the trident's momentum to push his opponent away. Even as he did so, his eyes widened slightly. It had felt almost natural.

The voice became louder, tantalizingly stopping just short of being audible.

A sliver of confidence made itself known to Ichigo, lending new strength to his tired arms. Turning his body to the right, he managed to catch Urahara's zanpakutou between the prongs of his own blade. Before the older man's surprised eyes, he jerked Nejibana to the right, wrenching Urahara's sword from his grasp.

And he could finally hear the words.

"Don't try to control me," Nejibana said softly in his ear. He could see her smile in his mind's eye, mischievous amusement clear on her face. "You can't continue damming a flood. Let yourself flow with me."

And Ichigo did, setting himself adrift in Nejibana's current. His arms rose of their own accord, raising the crystal trident high, just above the level of his head. His grip widened, and he could feel power surging inside him, a rising tide of energy.

Urahara Kisuke allowed himself a small smile as he retrieved his sword, never taking his eyes off of his opponent. Perhaps, just perhaps...

Then Ichigo was on him, a roaring wave that crashed against Benihime's wall and forced him to raise his defense for the first time. A flick of Ichigo's wrist sent the trident snaking past Urahara's blade, the needle-sharp points aimed at his throat. He slipped behind Ichigo using shunpo, only to find Nejibana had already spun around in a tight arc using Ichigo's own body as an axis, forcing him to block the blow with one hand against the back of Benihime's blade for support.

Ichigo himself was in a near dream-state, immersed in the soothing sound of flowing water. The world narrowed down until all that existed was himself and his opponent, locked in a dance of clashing blades. He felt a smile crease his face as Nejibana finally scored a glancing hit on Urahara's shoulder, drawing blood. Raising the trident high above his head, he plunged it downwards with both hands, driving the blade towards his opponent's head.

Urahara let himself fall backwards, tucking himself into a ball and rolling to the side. Nejibana flashed through the space where he'd been just moments ago, the crystal point sinking easily into the earth. Urahara grinned, drawing Benihime to the side for a right-handed sideways slash. Keen though Nejibana's blade might be, it had driven itself too deep to draw out quickly.

He hadn't counted on Ichigo's right hand to start glowing. The teenager reacted without thinking, raising his hand and facing the palm towards Urahara.

"Hadou thirty three," he cried, feeling his reiatsu gather in front of his arm. "Soka-"

Ichigo wasn't quite sure what happened next. One moment he was lost in the rhythm of battle, letting Nejibana guide him through the fight. He wasn't completely aware of what exactly he was doing; the pounding beat of his blood in his temples kept him from thinking clearly. He was acting on pure instinct.

Then Urahara literally disappeared before his eyes at a speed far too fast for him to react and he could feel Benihime's cold, perfect edge held at his throat.

"I must apologize, Kurosaki-san," Urahara said, smiling in spite of the sweat that rolled heavily down his face. He withdrew Benihime and leaned against a nearby boulder, getting his breathing in control. "I seem to have underestimated _you_. From what you've shown me, you're certainly a match for any vice captain."

"...Yeah," Ichigo replied, still slightly disoriented. Wielding Nejibana had been exhilarating and dizzying at the same time, like a glass of ice-cold water in the desert. He sat down hard, sheathing Nejibana as it reverted to its katana form. He couldn't quite remember what he'd done in the past few minutes, just a blurred recollection of ringing blades. "Just vice captain level? What about the captains?" he asked, the memory of Kuchiki Byakuya's blinding speed rising unbidden in his mind.

For a moment Urahara didn't reply, merely giving Ichigo a pointed look. "You didn't win, did you?"

Ichigo nodded without really understanding the true meaning of Urahara's words, prefering to lie prone on the ground. He was still in that battle-induced funk when he noticed what looked like a half-built gate standing to the side of where they'd fought. His curiosity piqued, he asked, "What's that?"

"That?" Urahara followed Ichigo's gaze before replying. "That's the doorway that will lead you to Soul Society."

"When?"

"It's not done yet," Urahara admitted. "It'll take week and a half at least before it's ready."

A black cat padded past Ichigo, giving him a brief nod in passing before stopping in front of Urahara. "Are you sure we have that much time, Kisuke?" Yoruichi asked, looking up at him.

Ichigo blinked, getting to his feet. "What do you mean, cat?" He hissed in pain as a set of sharp claws raked a path across his left leg.

"That's Yoruichi-san to you, kid," the cat said casually, retracting her claws. "Unlike Kisuke here, I have sources in Soul Society, and I've just received a report that your friend's execution date has been advanced by ten days."

Frowning, Ichigo said, "Then how much time does that give us?"

Yoruichi shrugged - as much as it was possible for a cat to shrug. "About seventeen days, possibly less."

"_What_?" Ichigo yelled, feeling as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over his head.

"Seventeen days," Yoruichi repeated. "That gives you just less than a week once Kisuke's finished his little door."

Ichigo turned to face the older man, who merely shrugged helplessly. "It's a very complicated process," Urahara said, spreading his hands apart. "I can't rush it any more than I already have."

"Isn't there any other way?" Ichigo asked, his tone becoming desperate. A half-remembered image skimmed past his consciousness, of a woman with black hair done up in a bun, her eyes closed in a sleep that would never end. _Too late_, a voice inside him said. A silent scream of denial echoed through his mind as he pushed the memory away.

_Not again_.

Suddenly, he felt a feather-light touch on his shoulder, and didn't need to turn to know who was there. "There _is_ another way," Nejibana said from beside him. "You already know it." Her lips twisted in a wry smirk. "That is, of course, assuming you're smart enough to remember."

His will roared to life, grasping the power inside him in a way he couldn't consciously comprehend.

"Trust in me," Nejibana murmured in his ear, putting one hand over his.

_Never again_.

Urahara and Yoruichi watched in faint astonishment as a hell butterfly materialized in midair, signaling the opening of a gateway. One foot already past the threshold, Ichigo looked back and gave them a small nod, a grim smile on his features.

"Thanks for all the help," he simply said, and then he was gone. A moment later the doorway disappeared, leaving behind no trace that it had ever existed.

Silence reigned for a few moments before Urahara sighed, leaning against his cane. "Well," he said lightly, unable to mask the worry in his voice, "that was certainly the most reckless and suicidal thing I've ever seen. Not to mention that it should have been impossible." He gave a start as nobody replied, looking around. He groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose as he realized there were no black cats in the vicinity. He hadn't even seen her move.

"She's not called Shunshin for nothing," he muttered to himself, turning to inspect the gateway he was making. "But..." Still, he couldn't stop a slight smile from spreading across his face. "Hopefully she'll keep him alive somehow until I manage to get this thing completed."

* * *

Ukitake Juushirou was many things. He was a powerful man, which was why he was a captain. He was a sick man, which was why his paperwork had a way of mysteriously finding its way to his subordinates. He was also a level-headed man, which was why he was unperturbed when his third seats burst into his office without so much as a by-your-leave, both of them babbling mindlessly.

"Captain Ukitake, there's something-

"Captain Ukitake, the butterfly-"

"-left all on its own-"

"-can't believe it-"

"-stop babbling and let me speak, damn it-"

For all his virtues, Ukitake Juushirou was, however, only human, and he couldn't help but sigh at the two monkeys in front of him who were masquerading as shinigami. He held up a hand and was greeted with an immediate silence.

"Kiyone," he said calmly, "explain what's gotten the both of you so disturbed, please."

"A hell butterfly, sir," the blonde said, obviously shocked and more than a little frightened. "It left for the material world just moments ago."

Ukitake raised an eyebrow. "And?"

Hell butterflies were routinely summoned to open gateways for shinigami returning from the material world, with one assigned to each seated officer and fifty divided between the unseated shinigami of each division. In and of itself, it wasn't surprising, but Ukitake knew that something must be amiss to shock his third seats so badly. What Kiyone said next turned his world upside down.

"It was Kaien's, sir."

Before the captain could reply - before he could even begin to think about what that might mean - a doorway opened in the middle of his office, spitting out a shinigami with an unruly shock of orange hair before winking out of existence. Ichigo took stock of the situation warily, one hand on Nejibana's hilt. He was outnumbered, and the confines of Ukitake's office restricted his field of movement. Inwardly, he was roundly cursing himself for jumping into a situation like this headfirst, while his blade seemed almost amused.

There was an extremely awkward silence as Ukitake sized up the 'intruder', noting that the youth showed no signs of fear despite being outnumbered three to one. Kiyone and Sentaro had apparently been shocked into silence, simply staring at Ichigo with wide eyes.

"Uhh..." Ichigo started, feeling like a fool. "I don't want to fight or anything, so if you just tell me where Kuchiki Rukia is, I'll be on my way before you know it."

There was a solid thud as Sentaro fainted, overcome by the surrealism of the situation. Kiyone continued to gape, her mouth silently opening and closing.

"I'm afraid she's a criminal due to be executed," Ukitake said, resisting the urge to pinch himself and make sure it wasn't all some sort of hilariously bad dream. He'd never imagined he'd be holding a polite conversation in his offics with a shinigami he'd never met before, one who was asking after a known criminal and who had appeared using the hell butterfly assigned to his dead vice captain.

Ichigo nodded, not removing his hand from his side. "Yeah, I know. I'm going to break her out." He drew Nejibana from her scabbard, holding it loosely in one hand. "Do we have to fight?"

"Fight?" Ukitake asked, genuinely surprised. He was a fearsome warrior, but unlike some shinigami he knew - namely, most of the 11th Division - he didn't jump at the opportunity to draw swords, preferring words instead. A part of him silently marvelled over how much the strawberry blond resembled his late vice captain, from the way he stood to the set of his jaw when he clenched his teeth when he'd made up his mind to fight. "Can't we talk this over?"

Before Ichigo could reply, a chocolate-colored blur coalesced behind him, grabbed a fistful of his shihakusho, and vanished, taking him with it.


	3. Dead Man Walking

Disclaimer: Bleach and everything in it is the property of Kubo Tite.

Bleached

Chapter 3

**Dead Man Walking**

* * *

Ukitake Juushirou scratched his head, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He noted absently that Kiyone was still staring blankly at the spot where the young intruder had been standing, and that Sentarou was out cold on the floor. That ruled out hallucination.

He took a mental step back, distancing himself and evaluating the chaos that had just taken place in his office. It was a useful trick he'd picked up during his academy days, when he'd been forced to find ways to clean up after Shunsui's drunken antics, often while hung over himself.

_Start from the beginning,_ he thought, and walked out of his office to the place where the 13th Division's transportation records were kept. He took a sharp breath as the words confirmed what he'd already known - the most recent summoning request had been the butterfly assigned to his empty second seat. _Shiba Kaien_, the characters said to him, and he shook his head, not sure what to think of the impossibility that had just taken place.

The orange-haired youth Ukitake had met in his office certainly hadn't been Shiba Kaien, that much was for certain. Granted, there was a strong resemblance, but he was far too young to be Ukitake's deceased vice captain, even disregarding his strawberry blond hair. Kaien had had the appearance of a young man in his early twenties. The boy had been sixteen at best.

_Still..._ Ukitake frowned as he strode back into his office, closing the door behind him. Even if the mystery shinigami wasn't his vice captain back from the dead, there were too many similarities between him and Kaien to ignore. He thought back to their brief conversation, going over it again in his head. The boy had had his zanpakutou drawn, held to his side-

Ukitake's eyes widened as he suddenly recalled how the boy had gripped the blade perpendicular to his body, realizing why it had seemed so familiar. Kaien had always held it like that before he'd released Nejibana.

Ukitake Juushirou hadn't lived for over two thousand years by believing in coincidences. The overly harsh nature of Rukia's punishment had been suspicious enough by itself. Now the summoning of his dead vice captain's hell butterfly, and it's subsequent transportation of a young shinigami who bore countless subtle similarities to that same dead man had his instincts screaming at him that something was amiss.

"Captain?"

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he actually jumped in surprise as Kiyone spoke.

"Do you think..." She trailed off, looking hesitant. Her insecure expression looked out of place on the normally loud and confident girl.

Shiba Kaien had been both an older brother and a best friend to his then-forth seats, close to them in ways that Ukitake himself could never be. They might have given their lives for their captain, but they would never confide in him as they had to Kaien. In fact, Ukitake strongly suspected that Kaien's presence was the only thing that had kept Kiyone from accepting a transfer proposal from her older sister's division.

Ukitake just shook his head, his tone holding the same confusion that his subordinate's expression showed. "I don't know, Kiyone. He disappeared before I could make sure of anything." In the brief instant before he disappeared, the young man had seemed as surprised as Ukitake himself was as something - or someone - grabbed him and vanished.

"Should I notify the Commander?"

After thinking about it for a moment, Ukitake replied. "You don't have to. I don't think that something like this requires a full report." It was a flimsy excuse at best, an outright lie at worst and they both knew it, but Kiyone made no move to disagree. Ukitake replayed the last few moments before the young man had vanished in his head, trying to catch something he missed. It had been shunpo, but the white-haired man had never seen such blinding speed.

He blinked. He _had_ been witness to speed like that, once. But the Goddess of Flash had long since abandoned Soul Society, vanishing with the exile Urahara Kisuke for reasons known only to herself. It had been decades since Ukitake had had cause to think of Shihouin Yoruichi. He highly doubted that she'd died in the century since she'd left, but there was no reason for her to be in Seireitei with an unknown shinigami after all this time, right?

_Just another coincidence,_ Ukitake thought darkly.

* * *

Ichigo blinked. One moment he'd been facing the white-haired man, ready to fight if the need arose. He wasn't quite sure how he'd ended up in what his mind subconsciously knew was Soul Society, but he was prepared to plow through all of it if he could find Rukia. A small part of him knew that he was acting illogically, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

The next moment, he felt a tremendous tug at the back of his neck. Before he could even begin to react, he was abruptly treated to the uncomfortable experience of being dragged via shunpo. Not only were the flash steps faster than he'd ever managed - he frowned suddenly, his train of thought coming to a stop as he thought it over again. He'd never used shunpo before, had he? What _was_ shunpo?

He was still going over the thought in his head when he came to an abrupt stop, jarring him severely. The air slammed into him like a brick wall, driving his breath away and forcing him to his knees. He hadn't even gotten hold of his breathing before two brown feet attached to a pair of brown legs stepped into his field of vision and he looked up.

Being a normal, if slightly bashful male teenager, Ichigo reacted as well as could be expected - considering just what part of the human body his line of sight was level with. He stared for a moment, felt his cheeks redden, and made an eloquent speech.

"_Gah!_"

"Enjoying the view?" the woman asked, making no effort to cover her nudity. Her irritation was clear in her voice as she crossed her arms and glared at Ichigo.

"Buh," Ichigo replied, his eyes crossing and his brain short-circuiting. A strong sense of deja-vu washed over him, as if he'd been through this before, but it was ignored in favor of wildly trying to avert his eyes. The surrounding landscape was barren except for a few dead trees and a copious amount of boulders - in other words, nothing interesting - so Ichigo settled for simply turning his back, mentally willing his blush to come under control. Since his back was turned, he had no way of avoiding the not-so-gentle slap upside the back of his head.

"Ow! What the hell was that-" Ichigo started to say as he turned around. Then his eyes widened as his blush returned with a vengeance and he wrenched his body around again. "_Get some clothes on!_"

The woman snorted. "I could do this all day, but I'm afraid if I got started I'd have to kick your ass five ways to Rukongai for that idiotic stunt you pulled, Ichigo," she said, her expression souring. She grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to turn, glaring balefully into his eyes.

"Look at me," she said, deliberately enunciating every syllable.

Ichigo looked.

Yoruichi watched as an array of emotions flashed past Ichigo's face, from faint recognition to anger before finally settling on embarrassment.

"Who are you, anyway?" he asked, doing his best to sound stoic. "And what did you just do?"

"I'm Yoruichi," the woman replied matter-of-factly. "And I just kept you from committing suicide."

"Huh?"

"Ukitake Juushirou - the white-haired man you were so eager to fight just a few moments ago - has been captain of the 13th Division for over two thousand years, and is one of the strongest warriors in all of Soul Society. Had he been inclined to do so, he could have reduced you to a fine mist before you even knew you were dead." Yoruichi shook him to make sure he was getting it. "You're nowhere near the level of a senior captain of his caliber."

Ichigo deflated visibly at the disparaging review of his abilities, but his temper kept him from backing down. Blindly grabbing at anything to make a retort, he said, "I thought you were a cat?"

Yoruichi, being slow to anger and quick to forgive, immediately smirked as an idea occurred to her. Shifting her grip from Ichigo's shoulders to his head, she forcibly directed his gaze downwards. "Do I look like a cat to you?"

"Gah!"

She released the terminally blushing youth and scrounged around the training ground for the spare clothing Urahara had put there. Despite being over a century old, the clothes were still wearable, if a bit musty. While Ichigo salvaged what remained of his dignity, Yoruichi resisted the urge to sigh and instead put her mind to cycling through her options.

She hadn't really had anything in mind when she'd followed Ichigo through the gate to Soul Society; she hadn't had enough time. All that had flashed through her mind as she entered shunpo was a brief pulse of irritation. She bit her lip as she pulled a black shirt over her head, silently cursing Urahara, Ichigo, and any other person who came to mind. She knew Urahara would probably make sure Ichigo's friends made it through safely; all she had to do until then was keep him from getting himself killed.

An idea suddenly came to her, enticing in its simplicity.

When Ichigo had first released his zanpakutou, he'd said things he should have had no way of knowing. Based on that and the peculiar properties of his zanpakutou, Urahara had come up with a theory that would explain just who the strawberry blond was.

Yoruichi had never heard of 'spirit reincarnation', as Urahara had termed it. Reincarnation in the physical world was rare, but there were cases of it happening from time to time. However, a spirit retaining the appearance or memories of a past lifetime was unheard of. It was reflected in the fact that no shinigami in recorded history had ever had the same zanpakutou as another.

Kurosaki Ichigo was the sole exception to that ironclad rule, the first and only case of spirit reincarnation that Urahara knew of - at least, he bore too many similarities to the late Shiba Kaien, and had recalled things that no teenager could have known. If Ichigo was, in fact, Kaien reborn, then Yoruichi knew just the thing to keep him occupied.

Shiba Kaien's specialty had been zanjutsu, his mastery of his zanpakutou ensuring that he was almost never disarmed. As a result, his skills in hakuda had suffered. Although Yoruichi didn't know it, it was the same deficiency in unarmed fighting that had spelled his demise decades ago, when the hollow that would kill him succeeded in destroying his zanpakutou. Though she didn't have the time needed to train him formally, forcing Ichigo through a crash-course in hakuda would suffice to keep him occupied, at least until Urahara finally completed his gateway.

She felt a smirk forming on her lips. She was feeling better already.

"Ichigo."

The teenager looked up, carefully noting that Yoruichi was finally clothed. "Yeah?"

"As I was saying, you're too weak to storm Soul Society like you are now. What do you say I train you?"

Narrowing his eyes, Ichigo said, "Train me in what? You don't have a zanpakutou."

Yoruichi assumed a loose ready stance, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "There may come a time when you're disarmed. Do you know how to fight?"

Ichigo grinned confidently, balling his hands into fists. She wouldn't know what hit her. "Yeah, I know some karate."

Yoruichi grinned back.

"Show me."

* * *

Ichigo's breath left him in a wordless gasp as a fist found its way past his guard and into his stomach, making him lower his arms. Not missing a beat, Yoruichi swiveled on her right foot and delivered a vicious hook to the side of his head, sending the youth crashing to the ground.

"Hakuda," Yoruichi lectured, as Ichigo struggled to get to his feet, "is the pinnacle of martial arts. Techniques from every single martial art known to mankind have been flawlessly integrated into one ultimate style, and the shinigami have had over two thousand years to perfect it. I can only teach you the basics in the time we've got. Come on, get up, Ichigo." She grinned. "I'm not even using my legs yet."

Ichigo managed to get to one knee before his body betrayed him and he collapsed bonelessly to the ground. "How..." He stopped, panting harshly. "How the hell can you be so fast and strong at the same _time_?" He was no stranger to martial arts, but Yoruichi made him look like a child, effortlessly weaving in and out of his attacks before delivering her own strikes with enough force to make his vision swim. She made Tatsuki, the best martial artist Ichigo knew, look like a rank amateur.

Rolling her eyes at his naivety, Yoruichi replied, "You're made up of reishi here, Ichigo. You know how living world martial artists talk of ki?" He nodded. "In Soul Society, think of your whole body as being made of ki. Your willpower, not your muscles, are the sole determining factor in how fast and strong your body is."

Yoruichi suddenly smirked as something occurred to her and she padded lightly to stand over Ichigo. She bent over the youth, amusement glinting in her tawny eyes. "You think that's air you're breathing?" She laughed as Ichigo gave a groan and rolled over.

Yoruichi waited until Ichigo had gotten his breathing under control before gesturing towards a rock formation a fair distance away. "There's a hot spring over behind those boulders that will heal your injuries. You'll need it if we're to continue training tomorrow." She paused and grinned again before adding, "If you're a good boy and behave, then maybe I'll join you."

Another groan.

* * *

"Better," Yoruichi said, raising an arm to block a kick aimed at her head. Grabbing hold of Ichigo's leg, she planted a kick squarely in his abdomen and watched with approval as the teenager rolled with the impact. He was learning at a phenomenal rate, absorbing her own fighting style almost as soon as he got hit by it. "But I could have broken your leg just now, or kept hold of it while I beat you unconscious. Don't overextend."

Ichigo replied with a wordless growl, leaping forward with a flashing combination of knee and elbow strikes. Yoruichi took a quick step back, lulling him into a false sense of security before swaying in and rising to deliver a resounding uppercut to his chin. "I said don't overextend..." She followed up with a lightning-fast spinning kick to his midsection. "And now you're using knee techniques when you're not even in close quarters. You've still got a long way to go." She turned away as Ichigo fell to the dirt like a puppet with its strings cut, sitting down and waiting for him to regain consciousness.

Ichigo's face split in a triumphant grin as he managed to sweep Yoruichi's feet out from under her, forcing her to roll. It was the first clean hit he'd landed since he'd started training days ago. He raised his leg, preparing to bring it down in a devastating ax kick, but blinked as Yoruichi suddenly vanished from his field of vision. She reappeared a moment later inside his guard, with one fist held lightly against his chest. He frowned; had she pulled her punch at the last minute?

"You're letting your mind wander, Ichigo," she said, before expelling her breath in an explosive _whoosh_ as her entire body tensed, pivoting her waist and sending a wave of shock through Ichigo's chest where she'd held her fist. He found himself lying flat on his back, feeling as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to his ribs.

"I thought you wouldn't use kidou," he said weakly, leveling an accusing glare at his teacher. She just smirked and snubbed her nose with her thumb.

"That wasn't kidou. It's all hakuda. You just have to know how to use it."

* * *

On the third day of his training, Ichigo had had enough.

"Damn it!" Ichigo stripped off the top of his kimono and threw it to the ground, the stifling confines of the black cloth suddenly more irritating than he could bear. He sat down hard, panting from a combination of both frustration and exhaustion. He set his back against a nearby boulder, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling.

Yoruichi stepped over to Ichigo, looking down at him with an unreadable expression on her face. "What's the matter?"

Ichigo laughed out loud, though the anger was clear in his voice. "What's the matter?" He made a sharp cutting motion with his hand. "Rukia's going to be executed in less than two weeks and you're asking me _what's the matter?_" A part of him noted that he was being unreasonable; that charging in with all guns blazing to save Rukia would result in little save his untimely demise. He ignored it in favor of the anger inside him, his irritation and fear coming to a point. "I thought you were the one who said we didn't have any time to spare!"

Yoruichi surprised him by snarling right back, her eyes like chips of electric topaz. "You wouldn't stand a chance out there right now and you know it," she snapped, unknowingly echoing what the small voice inside of him had whispered. "Perhaps if you'd waited for Kisuke to finish making the gate and came here with your friends you just might have been able to spirit Rukia out before anyone managed to find you in the confusion. But you went and came here by yourself, and Ukitake already knows you're here. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to find you yet."

"You wouldn't understand," Ichigo spat, feeling the familiar swirl of memories rising inside him again. This time he made no effort to stop them, letting them wash over him. "You weren't there when they brought her body back."

Confusion entered Yoruichi's eyes. Whose body? "Ichigo?"

Ichigo was far beyond reason. "You don't know what it's like to see your wife's half-eaten body covered by a sheet." His voice started darkening, the pitch and tone lowering until Yoruichi could hardly recognize it.

"Ichigo-"

"_No!_ I won't lose her again."

"Ichigo!" Yoruichi took a step forward, concerned. "What are you talking about?"

Ichigo answered her with a growl, looking her full in the face. "You've cost me enough time, Lady Shihouin."

A number of factors came into play in the next moment. Yoruichi, talented though she was, hadn't been in a real combat situation for over a century - her recent spars with Ichigo had been her first in decades. She was already slightly surprised by Ichigo's recollection of her family name, and the drawn look on Ichigo's face had shaken her deeply. As blue-white energy burst into being around Ichigo's hand, it took her brain a single moment to realize that he was using bakudo, which he shouldn't have known. It slowed her reaction by just a fraction of a second, but it was enough.

"Bakudou four: Hainawa!" Strands of incandescent energy formed around Yoruichi's arms and legs, effectively binding her into place. Her eyes widened in shock; the Hainawa bakudou was originally intended to seal only the target's arms. Ichigo's version had enough reiatsu behind it to form bindings around her legs as well, shutting off her access to shunpo.

It only took her a few seconds to break free of the light ropes, but by then Ichigo had already vanished, gaining enough of a lead that catching up to him before he reached Seireitei's center would be impossible. A brief curse passed her lips as she realized he'd already passed beyond the reiatsu dampeners installed in the cave, and in his unfocused state his power was burning like a signal beacon to any who had the eyes to see it.

_If he's still alive when I find him,_ Yoruichi thought grimly, slipping into shunpo, _I'm going to kill him._

* * *

Ukitake's head jerked around as he sensed the sudden explosion of reiatsu, garnering surprised looks from the young shinigami he was instructing. A moment later they felt it as well, a huge blanket of _presence_ that washed over and encompassed them. The rookies started sweating heavily, unaccustomed to being affected by such overwhelming pressure. Ukitake frowned; it was like being next to a captain who'd released his zanpakutou, yet the nature of the reiatsu was unlike that of any of the Gotei 13's captains. He had a sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he realized who the vaguely familiar energy belonged to.

_Him._

He gave the rookies a quick, forced smile and an excuse before shifting into shunpo, letting the flash steps carry him to the 13th Division's communications center. The regulations of the Gotei 13 allowed any captain to investigate an unidentified disturbance, but only the first submission was sanctioned. Ukitake had to get to the young, eerily familiar shinigami before any of his peers got it in their head to do so. He was halfway through the application when he saw that someone else had beaten him to it.

Ukitake read the message in silence, noting the division number. He didn't know _why_ he felt so interested in the young man he'd only known for a few seconds - who'd all but admitted to being a hostile invader - but something in him wouldn't let him rest until he'd found out just what was going on. That same something started shrieking in alarm as he realized just _who_ had filed the first investigation request.

In a very uncharacteristic moment, Ukitake spat a string of curses before entering shunpo again, hoping he'd be able to get there in time, rules be damned.

He wouldn't leave _anybody_ to Kurotsuchi Mayuri's tender care if he could help it.

His mind still whirling with disjointed recollections, Ichigo was leaning against a wall, trying to catch his breath before slipping back into shunpo. He'd barely stopped panting before a hand fell on his shoulder, abruptly quenching the flow of energy he was unwittingly releasing into the air. He turned and found himself staring straight into what was probably the scariest face he'd ever had the questionable pleasure of seeing in his entire life.

It had a weird hat. No discernible facial hair, no lips. Yellow eyes, and skin that was colored in stark shades of black and white. It was wearing a captain's haori.

The last fact kicked Ichigo's mind into red alert, and he began subtly scanning his surroundings for any possible escape routes. Unaware of his discomfort, the captain started to circle him.

"My, my," the man said to himself, tapping a single abnormally long fingernail against his chin. "What have we here? I thought I had finished my research on shinigami, but then _you_ show up. Fascinating."

Noting that the man showed no sign of hostile intent, Ichigo thought that perhaps he'd be able to talk his way out. "Uh... Captain..." He floundered for a while, realizing he knew nothing of the seemingly insane man standing before him. Fortunately, the captain took care of his dilemma for him.

"Kurotsuchi Mayuri, 12th Division," the man said as an afterthought, before stooping to get a good look at Ichigo's zanpakutou. "zanpakutou shows no signs of abnormality, but..." He stopped for a moment before nodding to himself, having reached a satisfactory conclusion. "It _is_ tightly woven into your own reiatsu, although the uniformity of spirit typical of bankai is absent. How unique." Ichigo noted uneasily that Kurotsuchi sounded almost eager, like a child presented with a toy he just couldn't wait to play with.

Mayuri continued walking in a circle around him, seemingly lost in his own little world. "Interesting, yes. Your reiatsu is actually divided into two equal parts. One side is noticeably older than the other, as if you'd retained your power from a previous life. It should be impossible." He stepped closer and stared directly into Ichigo's face. The captain's right pupil dilated before disappearing completely, the white of that eye becoming a sickly greenish yellow.

"Even more peculiar," Mayuri said as he scanned Ichigo, making no effort to suppress the disturbing giggle that escaped his mouth. "Your reiatsu even holds vestigal traces of hollow. Much to my chagrin, I must admit I've never seen anything like this in my studies before."

Ichigo frowned; he'd had quite enough of being talked about like a specimen to be dissected. "Hey-"

"Could you be a vizard?" Mayuri interrupted, his eyes narrowing. From somewhere beneath his robes he produced a small handheld device that he waved over Ichigo's head, unmindful of the younger man's unease. He made a slight _tsk_ of disappointment as he read the results, shaking his head absently. "No, nowhere near the hypothetical level of reiatsu meshing that would be required to compose one of their kind. And even then, it wouldn't explain the most distinct division of reiatsu that's taken place in your soul.

"Would you care to accompany me to my laboratory?" Mayuri asked suddenly, presenting what he thought was a disarming smile. In reality, his distinct lack of lips made him look like some sort of horribly angry mime. "I assure you, you'll receive a cell all to yourself. You'll be allowed to eat food instead of having nutrients injected into your bloodstream." The captain stopped at Ichigo's nonplussed expression, rubbing his chin again. At length he heaved a heavy sigh, his tone much like that of a merchant who insisted he was being robbed blind. "Very well. If you feel the need to do so, you may use Nemu to satisfy your baser urges." It was obvious that Mayuri thought it was an irresistable offer.

Before Ichigo could reply, or ask just what a Nemu was, a man rounded the corner and called him. His eyes widened in recognition as the sight of the man's face brought back countless memories, ones that he'd subconsciously repressed the last time they'd met. Before they could overwhelm him, he could feel Nejibana's soothing touch like a balm, keeping the sudden rush from driving him to his knees and banishing the haze of anger that had blanketed him minutes before.

"Hirose! I was looking all over the place for you!" the white-haired man said, brushing past Mayuri and grabbing Ichigo by the shoulders. "I knew you'd probably get lost on the way to the barracks."

"Ukitake." Mayuri's voice was dripping with insincere courtesy. "One of yours, I take it?"

Ukitake nodded, giving Ichigo a none-too-subtle poke in the ribs. "_Hirose _here just completed an early course at the academy, but I was afraid he wouldn't be able to find his way to my division's barracks, so I came out here to look for him. Right?"

"Ca... Captain Ukitake," Ichigo managed to say, swaying slightly from the near-overload of recollection. Neither captain noticed.

Mayuri's eyes narrowed until they were just slits. "I'm sure I would also have been notified of such a prodigy," he said softly, his voice becoming dangerously cold. Ukitake noted that the other captain's hand strayed dangerously close to Ashisogi Jizo, despite the standing order forbidding captains to draw their zanpakutou.

"Well," the white-haired man said, keeping up a facade of cheer despite his alarm, "that's just the way things happen now and again, Kurotsuchi-san. So sorry, perhaps you'll get lucky next time." With his left hand, he unobstrusively began steering Ichigo away, noticing with no small measure of relief that Mayuri made no move to follow.

"I will be filing a full report on this, Ukitake," Mayuri spat, reluctantly deferring to the older, more influential captain. He knew something was wrong, but he was no idiot. The 12th Division's captain had no doubts about how an argument between one of the Gotei 13's most respected captains and one of the most reviled would go. With a scowl on his face, he slipped silently into shunpo and vanished.

Ichigo had no idea what had just happened, but he knew enough that the man beside him - his mind automatically labeled him as Captain Ukitake, accompanied by a strong rush of trust - had just taken a serious risk that would probably have serious repercussions later on. "Uh... thanks."

"Hmm?" Ukitake said absently, guiding Ichigo towards the 13th Division barracks. "Oh, think nothing of it. I would have done the same for anybody in Kurotsuchi-san's clutches. He seemed to like you." The way he frowned at that made it clear that being liked by Kurotsuchi Mayuri was not a good thing.

They walked in silence for a moment, Ichigo struggling to get a grip on himself while Ukitake stared expressionlessly at the sky. Before long they were walking into the main compound, where Ukitake led them to a modest lake surrounded sparsely by trees.

"It's a nice lake, isn't it?" Ukitake said suddenly, gesturing to the perfectly round body of water. Several koi swam inside, glowing gold and red in the light of the setting sun.

"Yeah," replied Ichigo. He knew he should be more suspicious, but somehow he couldn't find it in himself to not trust his own captain. _My own captain?_

Ukitake took a deep breath and made his move. "You made it when you first discovered your shikai, you know." He saw Ichigo go rigid, but continued. He _had_ to know. "As punishment, I made sure you lined the border with boulders-"

Ichigo's head snapped around and Ukitake found himself staring into a pair of blazing eyes. "That wasn't me."

"Wasn't it?" Ukitake replied mildly, unruffled. "I recall that Kiyone complained for weeks about how she kept falling into the 'new' lake."

"It was her own fault-" Ichigo paled, the color draining from his face. His voice fell until it was just a whisper. "That wasn't me," he repeated, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself of the fact. "I'm Kurosaki Ichigo."

Inside, Ukitake was shaken more than he would admit. It was a gamble that only half of him had wanted to make; the other half would have preferred to let the past remain the past. The haunted look on Ichigo's face did nothing to help him believe he'd done the right thing.

"Ichigo?" he asked cautiously, noting with relief that the youth didn't simply ignore his voice. Carefully, he set a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

Ichigo was in no real danger of losing himself, not like he had been just after learning Nejibana's name. What had shocked him was that Ukitake actually seemed to know him - not himself, but the Other, the one who seeped into his dreams and his memories whenever he let down his guard. Up until that moment, he'd tried to convince himself that the Other wasn't real; just a figure of his imagination. Ukitake's words had changed all that.

He struggled with the fact for a moment, more or less ignoring Ukitake's words as he tried to get a grip on himself. Ichigo made an effort to calm his nerves, and was well on his way to succeeding when he heard someone approaching.

He looked up to see a girl with blonde hair and amber eyes, staring at him as though she'd seen a ghost. The words came from his lips without any conscious thought.

"Kiyone?"

To be fair, Kiyone herself was still recovering from the shock she'd received when Kaien's butterfly had abruptly summoned a boy who bore a distinct resemblance to one of her closest friends. It didn't help that her captain had a hand on the youth's shoulder, bringing to mind familiar memories she'd thought would remain memories forever. And it certainly didn't help at all that he'd called her name. So could be forgiven when she said the one word that shattered Ichigo's fragile calm, the name of the Other.

"_Kaien?_"

Ichigo bolted; he managed to take three steps before Kiyone tackled him, burying her face into his chest and sobbing like a child.


End file.
